Please, Please, Please 11
by Alexz85
Summary: Damages, Patty/Ellen, no spoilers. Smut taking place during season 3.


**Please, Please, Please 1/1**

Title: Please, Please, Please

Rating: NC 17

Fandom: Damages

Pairing: Patty/Ellen

Disclaimer: All characters, events, settings and situations mentioned in this work are sole property of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for profit, in constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context and are not intended to be defamatory or factual in anyway.

Summary: Takes place after their conversation on the couch. No real spoilers on the main storyline. Just a little smut.

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><p><em><strong>Please, please, please let me get what I want this time<strong>_

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><p>"Thanks for coming. I didn't know if you'd-take me up on my invitation."<p>

"I told you, patty, if you wanted to talk, just to call me."

If they are to be honest, it's awkward. They haven't really been alone together since the night in the bathroom. Not like this. Ellen's got a first taste of bourbon on her tongue and it's like her body is pumping new blood.

Patty sits back, pulls her bare feet onto the couch and asks, "Did you have a good dinner with your family the other night?"

"Oh-" For a second, Ellen forgets that they're doing this. She forgets she's sitting in Patty's living room and there is music playing, and they're supposed to be talking, "-it was um-interesting."

Patty nods, trying very hard to listen. To force the thinning tension to evaporate completely.

"I met my sister's baby for the first time," Ellen offers the only positive attribute to the Parsons' dinner night.

"Oh. Wonderful."

Ellen smirks at Patty's obvious effort and leans back in her seat, "So how's uh-Michael doing anyway?"

"He seems to be doing quite well without me."

To this, Ellen is quick to respond, "Well, that would make sense. You always said you were a terrible mother."

Patty is taken a back for all of a second before she bursts into laughter. Had it been anyone else, she would have ripped them a new asshole. Ellen, however, has a permanent get out of jail free card with Patty. She's not sure why.

When Patty's laugh subsides, Ellen stops and wonders aloud, "Why haven't you told Gates everything you know about Danielle Marquetti?"

"Let's not talk business," Patty tells her immediately.

"Isn't that why I'm here?" Ellen asks a suddenly silent Patty, who's turned her gaze up at her in a way she can't handle much longer. She's really beginning to wonder, because her mind needs to stay on work if this is going to continue to be civil and if they're going to keep pretending it's not something more, "Seducing me with bourbon…you want an ally at the DA's office."

Patty is beginning to grow weary. She's just figuring out herself that she might just be seducing Ellen Parsons. Or maybe it's the other way around. She's not sure anymore. She's feeling suddenly anxious and she's just noticed that her glass is almost empty, "Believe it or not, Ellen, I just want your company. You need to learn to let go of work." She sips her bourbon again and meets Ellen's lustful stare over the rim of her glass, a playful smirk turning up on the brunette's lips for a fraction of a moment.

"I haven't learned to do that just yet."

"It takes time," Patty nods, knocking the rest of her drink back, then shifting forward to pour herself another.

There is an entirely different form of tension quickly building between, around and inside them and when Patty sits up with a fresh drink, she is surprised to see Ellen gulping her entire glass down, finishing with a satisfied sigh and a thorough licking of her lips.

The bourbon burns Ellen's throat on the way down and when it hits the pit of her stomach, she realizes she hasn't eaten much that day and she doesn't really care because when she pushes her body forward in her seat and up, there is a definite quick buzz.

She stands up, aware of Patty's gaze following her as she leans over and grabs the bottle of alcohol. She pours to mid glass, sets the bottle down, stands up straight and feels her chest heave when she breathes and looks at Patty as she asks, "What is this we're listening to?"

Patty blinks up at the other woman, hearing her as if on delay. "It's uh-" Her mind is completely blank and she shakes her head, "-I forgot." She holds her glass up, not drinking, but only letting the liquid wet her lips.

Ellen nods, lifts her glass and begins to drink without even pausing to taste, not coming up for air until it's all gone, "Oh." She moves back towards her seat, when really, all she wants, is to climb on top of Patty. She flops down instead and mindlessly chews on her bottom lip. Her eyes are glassy and she knows it. Patty herself, is busy pouring herself yet another drink.

Patty sighs heavily and pulls her feet up on the couch again and begins to feel a tingle work it's way up her spine.

"Patty?"

"Hmm?" Patty turns her head at the sound of her name and her grip tightens around her glass at the sight of Ellen. The look on her face is indescribable. She's not sure she's ever seen it, yet there's a familiarity to it. Maybe it's a look she's seen a lot, just not to this magnitude.

"Why am I here, Patty?" Ellen asks, the fingers of her right hand curling into the edge of her seat as she waits for an answer. Patty's words echo in her mind, 'believe it or not, I just want your company'. The look on her face-the way she looked like she wanted to say more-they way she looked a little defeated.

They don't look away, even when no one is speaking.

"You tell me," Patty finally replies, her back tensing against the backrest she's leaning on when Ellen shifts in the opposing seat.

The brunette's lips part to speak, but nothing comes out. Her mind is reeling. From all the thoughts floating in and out of her subconscious, through waves of alcohol, and waves of lust. She finally pushes herself up and off her seat for the second time that night and moves towards the blonde woman, whose gaze shifts upward as Ellen steps closer.

She sits at the edge of the couch, way on the other end, way, way at the other end. Not where Patty anticipated she would sit.

Ellen pushes the air out of her lungs, forces it out in a breath, and stares ahead as the song they've been basking under ends and a new one begins. This one, she recognizes immediately. A tiny smirk appears on her face. She never took Patty for a Smiths fan. Beside her, Patty shifts-leans over to her left-and sets a half empty glass of bourbon down on the table.

Out the corner of her eye, Ellen can see Patty's feet, shifting against one another as she moves. Her nails are polished red and her skin is pale. It looks soft. A peak of a bare ankle makes Ellen clench her thighs together and at this she rolls her eyes to herself, redirecting her gaze elsewhere. A large flower filled vase, a portrait of Michael-Patty groans beside her and Ellen turns to see her close her eyes and crane her neck this way and that.

She swallows, licks her lips and begins to move slowly.

Patty looks up in time to see the younger woman scoot up on her knees. Theirs is barely any time to react before she's hovering above her, braced with one hand on the back rest and the other on the armrest Patty is resting her head on.

"Is this why I'm here?" Ellen asks, as Patty's knees part so easily for her when she lowers her body slowly against her, lowering her head until their nose graze and Patty catches her breath.

Patty is at a loss. For words, but mostly, for thoughts. She closes her eyes and her lips part in anticipation. She can feel Ellen's bated breath against her cheek, and she can smell the liquor between them both. She's wet and turned on beyond belief, and is more than surprised when an actual sentence leaves her mouth, "I don't know."

"I do."

They're drunk. This much, they can both agree on. They shouldn't be doing this. That is also a known fact. But they want each other. And that alone is a good enough reason to justify Ellen's tongue in Patty's mouth.

Patty's neck arches and she moans when Ellen thrusts her hips forward. She can't believe it's actually happening. She thinks, maybe, she should have stayed sober, but the way her mind is all over the place feels kind of great. She runs her hands up Ellen's back, and down over her ass, raking her nails against the swell, smiling against their kiss when the action causes Ellen to groan and grind down against her.

Their lips play a teasing game, between long, languid kisses and short, barely lasting ones, to ones that nibble and tug at lips, drawing out quiet hisses and moans, kisses that fill flesh with goose bumps and kisses that make their skin heated.

Finally, and it seems like forever, Ellen's lips fall against Patty's pulse point, where she licks and bites, leaves open mouthed kisses for a long, leisurely while. Patty writhes under her as she very slowly trails lower, pushing her sweater aside to press her lips to her chest while her hand brushes her breast in passing, towards her ribcage, which she cradles with her palm as head shifts to the right and her lips wrap around a hardened nipple through the fabric of her top.

A shudder evades Patty's insides from head to toe and she feels a pulsating in her core. She lifts her hand and covers her eyes with it, her lips parting in a barely suppressed moan before she breathes, "I cannot believe I'm doing this at my age." She hears Ellen chuckle bellow and she curses herself for speaking when the other woman's lips leave her and she's forced to look down at mirthful brown eyes.

"Doing what? Making out on the couch?"

Patty smiles, but is silenced before she can speak with those lips she was just missing. They claim her, kissing at their own accord, pulling back as soon as she thinks she might gain some control of the situation. Ellen kisses the other side of her neck, her hair fanned out over patty's chest as she licks over the other fabric encased breast, her teeth tugging gently at the hardened numb, drawing out a sharp gasp before trailing even lower.

Patty tries to follow the woman's head as tracks down her torso, but the sensation of hot breath and that tongue against her skin make it impossible for her to hold her head up and she lets it fall back, reaching up to grip the armrest as Ellen kneels between her legs and ever so slowly dips her hips underneath Patty's shirt, snaking upwards with her hands flat on her belly and pushing the top up in the process, her mouth covering every inch of skin she leaves bare. This is when Patty begins to thank the alcohol induced state she's under. It leaves no room for insecurities she would otherwise be worrying about right about now.

Ellen finds a couple of freckles across Patty's abdomen which she pays extra attention to. As she tastes higher up the woman's body, she's pretty sure she can't get enough of this skin. It's soft and it smells amazing. Fresh. Like she's recently showered. The thought sends Ellen's mind into a frenzy and she exhales against a particularly hungry kiss just bellow the underside of Patty's breast, smiling when she hears a moan above her.

She palms both breasts and moves swiftly back down, runs her tongue in a single line down her belly until she reaches her jeans and with her teeth, tugs at the button for a second before dropping her hands to make do with the stubborn metal circle. When she lowers the zipper, black lace greets her and she instantly wonders what it would feel like to slip her fingers inside Patty.

Patty seems to hear her thoughts because she sits up instantly and pulls her face in with both hands, kisses her fiercely before she tugs at Ellen's clothes.

In time, they're in a hurried pace, peeling off garments, pushing back and forth, both trying to top the other.

Minutes later, the coffee table has been shoved aside and Ellen is flat on her back on the floor, trying desperately not to pull at Patty's hair, which is spread out on her pelvis, tickling her belly as that sharp tongue she is so well known for slowly drives her insane.

She moans up at the high ceiling and her back arches like a bow, waiting to snap. She imagines her body must look like a geometric slope of some sort, or a curve graph, maybe. Beginning with her neck, in the smallest lift, and falling at the shoulders, which are rested hard against the hardwood floor, anchoring her spine, which lifts off the ground with a swipe of Patty's tongue over her clit. Her ass serves as a landing end for the bridge like form her spine has adopted, lifting again at the thighs. They tense and flex, bent at the knees and each spread at forty five degree angles with both feet planted on the ground as Patty's mouth steers away to the left, drawing various shapes against Ellen's, now dripping, folds.

Her fingers curls into blonde tresses but still, she's careful not to pull. Her eyes are shut tightly, her lips are parted and gasping quietly for air, while Patty holds her hips down and continues to feast on her.

If Patty thought she was drunk before, she was sadly mistaken. She feels exhilaratingly inebriated on Ellen Parsons.

She's never particularly minded going down on her sexual partners. Whether it be cunnilingus or filatio, she's good at both. And she enjoys doing things she's good at-Ellen's elevated oral affirmation is proof enough of the fact-and she's rather her spotless reputation transcend every single aspect of her life.

There haven't been many partners. She prefers to keep the "Patty is a good fuck" reputation way bellow the "Patty's a bitch to be reckoned with in the courtroom" reputation. She gets more out of the former. Actually, she can count all the lovers she's ever had on both hands and still have a couple of fingers to spare. Two to be exact. And she uses those two to draw out another sharp cry from Ellen by pushing her index and middle fingers gradually inside her, drawing shorter circles around her while she massages the spongy interior with the tips of her fingers. She tries the left side, then the right, and on top, before settling a firmer stroke on the lower side, in and out, lazily stroking there as Ellen's hips begin to quicken their thrusting pace upwards, She feels her begin to tug at her hair a little harder now and Patty moans at the new surge of arousal it brings, finally wrapping her lips about the swollen nub begging for attention, which she gives with selfless abandon.

Ellen's eyes shoot open with a loud, unrecognizable moan, her right hand slamming down against the floor, while her left grabs a firmer hold of golden locks and pulls hard as her orgasm rocks her completely still.

Her hips jerk forehead as her she body begins to protest against Patty's now gentle ministrations.

Gasping, Ellen pleads, "Please-no more-mmm-" She licks her lips and stares through hooded eyes as Patty's head rises from between her legs, a devilish gleam in the baby blues staring back as the older woman wipes her chin with more grace than should be possible under the circumstances.

Ellen wonders, as she gingerly pushes herself up to sit, how Patty's managed to keep her bra and panties on through this ordeal. Well, that's something that needs to be remedied. She quickly realizes two things in the midst of this.

First, that they're both still very drunk, as they have to stop, holding onto each other in muffled giggles when Ellen in avertedly snaps Patty's bra against her back in a lame attempt to smoothly undo the clasp with just one hand.

"I'm sorry-" She snorts, kissing the blonde in apology as her hand draws soothing circles over the sore spot, "-are you okay?"

"Yes," Patty replies, feigning annoyance.

The second thing Ellen realizes, is that Patty likes being touched. And Ellen is happy to oblige. She touches her everywhere.

Her fingertips trickle caresses along her jaw line as she kisses her, then trail down the side of her neck. Patty sighs and Ellen tracks her right hand over her shoulder in response, while the other makes do with running gently up her knee, sliding down Patty's thigh where they sit, limbs astride one another.

Digits dance along the inside of Patty's thigh and she shivers, making her pull away from the heated kiss with a small gasp.

Her breasts are supple against Ellen's palms. The woman's body is in better shape than that of a lot of women twenty years her junior. And she's worked hard to keep it that way.

When Ellen tastes her, she discovers a new hobby. And not only because Patty seems to nearly slither towards her mouth and it's the power trip of her life, knowing she can bend this woman to her will with simply the stroke of her tongue.

Ellen's been with only one woman before, and only men after that, so it takes some assistance from patty and a little more time that anticipated to make her come, but it's worth it just to hear the breathless instructions become desperate begging, "Yes! Right there! Don't stop!" It's an ego boost and Ellen wonders just how long she can do this before she becomes too smug.

She kisses her way up her body, smiling at the tiny bite mark she's left on her left thigh. She wonders if Patty will be mad.

When their lips meet again, the kiss is hungry. It's desperate and as Ellen straddles one of Patty's thighs and slowly begins to rock against it, she realizes another thing, "I'm not drunk anymore."

"Me either-" Patty replies, panting. Her body feels nearly boneless as Ellen holds her down with both hands in her own, her eyes boring into her as she gently presses her leg to her still sensitive center. She gasps and is almost surprised when Ellen seems to understand without Patty having uttered a word.

The younger woman stops, even though all her body seems to want to do is move. She's breathing heavily, so is Patty, and as they pause for a moment, they smile meekly at one another. Suddenly, they're both thinking about what's going to happen. After. When alcohol is no longer an excuse and things have to be real between them. But then again, everything between them is anything but fake. It has to be. Neither woman would be so attracted to the other were there even a hint of falsity in their relationship.

"I don't want to talk about this-" Patty says headily, her chest still heaving, and just a tiny gash of smeared eyeliner off the corner of her eye.

Ellen stares down at her and wonders if she should contradict her. That is, until she decides that she agrees, "I don't want to talk wither."

And for a good two more hours that leave Ellen with a bruise on side that she can only blame on Patty's kitchen counter, and Patty a two day long back pain that no pain killer known to man is able to cure, they don't talk.


End file.
